


As the Rain Falls

by katsukii



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: M/M, Slow Build, big sad energy all around, kaito is sad tm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:46:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22275817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katsukii/pseuds/katsukii
Summary: Kaito Tenjo just wants to be alone, because the world is an ugly place, and he's afraid of seeing it as anything but. Thomas Arclight has other plans.
Relationships: Thomas Arclight/Tenjou Kaito
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

Kaito Tenjo does not believe in love.

It isn’t because he’s never fallen before - because he has. He has fallen in love with dueling, in love with being a sibling, in love with the stars. He has loved far more times than he can count, and he is sure he will come to love many more things despite the cruel, bitter blackness of reality. But all the same, he doesn’t believe in it.

When he is strolling through the city, observing the masses of girls flocking to get a better look at popstar, professional duelist,  _ whatever  _ he is IV, he does not believe it is love. When he meets eyes with IV, gives him an almost sympathetic glance -  _ I’m sorry _ \- it isn’t anything to do with love. And when he returns home to Haruto, who asks him about his day and about the sights he’s seen, he can’t think of anything beautiful to tell him, because the world is ugly and love does not exist in it.

All things are rotten.

He finds himself in the city again on an overcast day, per Haruto’s request. Pick me a flower, won’t you? But all the flowers are wilted without the sun, laying flat against the soil from the driving rain, and Kaito scoffs at them as he walks by. Whatever color their petals once held has leached into the ground, swallowed by the earth. He is almost sad. But before he can be upset about it, he simply turns his nose and flips his collar up around his face, blocking out the wind, blocking out the flowers, blocking out the darkness. Haruto will have to wait this once. And he feels his heart sink, because while love is a fallacy, it still hurts.

His boots fall heavy on the wet pavement, each step a sluggardly movement. He does not feel inspired to be out today, does not feel like hunting Numbers or interacting with people or looking at dead flowers that reflect the diminishing beauty of the world. He feels like resigning himself to a small, hardly-visited cafe on the outskirts of the city, rejuvenating over a steaming cup of coffee - black, no sugar or creamer. Just a touch of soy. But the most reclusive cafe is at least three and a half blocks away, and Kaito isn’t entirely convinced he can make it without his motivation slipping down the drain.

He sighs through his nose and continues walking, very much alone.

* * *

IV is the very opposite of alone.

Even in the rain, he cannot escape the hordes of fans that flock to his side, clamoring for photos or autographs or here, I made this doll for you, won’t you keep it? And Kaito, who is passing by, snorts, because it’s the embodiment of today’s worst nightmare, and he pities IV for being stuck with it. Better IV than him, though, he thinks, as he ducks his way past a few straggling young women who were just a bit too late on the uptake. They push their way through the growing crowd; hair is pulled, sides are elbowed, feet are stepped on. Kaito can hear the resounding issues of “ouch, watch it!” and the bickering of the girls as they each vie for their territory. He shakes his head. How ridiculous. Love.

He makes to continue walking but is stopped by some invisible force, tugging at his chest. He is several paces away from the crowd now, just far enough to not get involved, but all the same he finds himself turning his head, staring at the drenched backs of the fans as they struggle and push and crowd, crowd, crowd. And above it all there is IV, who looks… tired. The lines in his face are deep and his eyes do not shine they way they usually do; they are sunken and hollow and very much resemble Kaito’s own. Kaito looks on wordlessly as IV signs another obligatory portrait, shakes another obligatory hand, smiles for another obligatory photograph. The duelist looks about ready to keel over. Kaito’s chest tightens.

Their eyes meet. Help me.

Kaito turns away.

The world is rotten.

He is halfway down the block when he hears quick footsteps echoing behind him, and he scarcely has a moment to look over his shoulder before IV is there, panting, rain running down his cheeks like tears. His hair is matted down, his white clothes are soaked all the way through, his hands tremble from the cold. But he is smiling. Genuinely. He looks free.

“I finally caught you,” he breathes, and Kaito raises an eyebrow. Why? Why me? “I can’t believe you’d just abandon me to them. How cruel.”

“They’re your fans. It’s your responsibility.”

IV tips his head, raises his shoulders in a half shrug. “Maybe. But you could’ve helped.”

“How.”

“I dunno. Duel with me. Punch me. Maybe don’t punch me. Drag me away. Say there’s an important meeting taking place that I have to sit in on. Anything.”

“Noted.” Kaito doesn’t realize he has stopped walking. When the notion sets in, he carries on as if he’d never paused in the first place. IV doubles his pace to catch up. He seems desperate.

“What are you up to on this oh-so-fine day?” he asks, arms swinging limply at his sides. He looks like a puppet.

“Coffee.”

“Alone? How sad.”

“That’s how I prefer it.” Take the hint.

IV does not. “I could use some caffeine myself. My treat, how about that? For you saving me.”

“Very funny.”

“I know. I’m a natural born comedian, too, not just a pretty face.”

Kaito rolls his eyes. One block left. His bones are weary and ache from the bitter chill, but he is so close now, so close. He can’t possibly give up. One block left. One block to get IV to leave. One block to once again be alone and resent the thunder cracking above and the dead flowers that are burned into the back of his mind.

IV delves a hand into his pocket, retrieves a sodden pack of cigarettes. “You mind?”

“Go ahead. It’s your life.”

He snorts and flicks his lighter. “Guess so. Not that anyone would care. You know, I do this to piss off dear old dad? Funny how that goes.”

“Why’re you telling me?”

“Dunno. Who else do I have to tell? Chris? Mihael?” IV scoffs indignantly. His nose wrinkles at the bridge in apparent disgust. “No. They’re the picture perfect family. I’m the anomaly. Best to the play the part.”

Kaito turns his eyes to the pavement, slick with rain. It shines under the amber hue of street lamps, reflects finely polished steel buildings. Ripples with each fresh drop that falls. He traces the expanding circles, mesmerized. Half a block left. IV is still here.

He gives up.

“What kind of coffee do you drink?” IV asks in between drags.

“Black.”

“Gross.” IV sticks his tongue out, mimes choking. “How can you stand that? If it doesn’t have half and half and sweetner, it’s not coffee.”

“It’s anything  _ but  _ coffee if it has that in it.”

“Harsh. We almost there? My feet hurt. I was at that signing for hours before you showed up.”

“IV, again. It’s your responsibility.”

“ _ Thomas _ ,” he corrects. “And I still have a right to complain. Fanservice is difficult.”

“Thomas,” Kaito agrees. And that seems to satisfy him - enough that the rest of the walk to the cafe is spent in blissful silence. Kaito has never felt so relieved.

The world is still ugly. But in this corner of the city, free from people, free from dying flowers, free from fanservice, it seems just a little bit brighter.


	2. Chapter 2

The coffee shop is a quaint place - warm, inviting, and perfectly empty.

Kaito frequents this place enough that the employees know him by name and have his order memorized to a T. They smile at him when he walks in, ask him how he’s doing and if he managed to avoid the bad weather and would you like the usual? And his drenched clothes answer the first two questions, so he apologizes for tracking water all across the floor because, I’m sorry, I neglected my umbrella. But yes, the usual, please.

Thomas is a new face, new to these people who rarely see customers other than their loyal regulars. New to these people who don’t know who IV is. There’s a sort of excited buzz surrounding the employees when he approaches the counter, pushing his sopping bangs from his eyes, laughing to himself. He is handsome, but beyond that, he’s a potential regular. And the employees are excited. They greet him with a smile, assure him it’s no problem that he’s dripping wet - which he insists on apologizing for - and what can I get for you today, sir? When he gives his order - triple shot, half-sweet, non-fat caramel macchiato - they ask for a name, and he feels he could almost cry. A name. “Thomas,” he tells the barista, and he is grinning from ear to ear like a child receiving candy as the letters are scrawled on his cup. Thomas. That’s his name. Not IV.  _ Thomas _ .

Kaito notices, and he huffs a small, contented breath. It’s pleasing to see IV - _Thomas,_ he corrects himself \- so happy.

Not that he cares, really.

Kaito’s coffee has already finished brewing by the time Thomas is done ordering, but out of courtesy - and the overwhelming heat of the drink - he waits for Thomas’ to be completed before sipping any of his own. He watches the baristas work, deftly pouring and mixing and steeping. Thomas is watching, too, an eager twinkle to his eyes - he’s definitely in need of a caffeine pick-me-up. It’s almost humorous how, after receiving his drink, Thomas sips it, pulls a face, and promptly attacks the creamer pods and sweetener packets, adding at least three of each. He sips again, nods to himself. Perfect.

Kaito snorts.

“How’s your ‘real coffee?’” Kaito asks with a simper, lips curled upwards at the corners.

“Perfectly sweet. Like coffee  _ should  _ be. How’s your drink of eternal blackness and bitterness?”

“Perfectly bitter. Like coffee  _ is _ .”

Thomas rolls his eyes and raises his cup to his lips again. “You’re still wrong about that, Kaito.”

Kaito. It occurs to him that Thomas has never called him by name before, and it sounds rather nice rolling off his tongue. Thomas’ inflection is friendly, warm, not unlike the coffee shop itself, and he wonders if perhaps the air is getting to him, making things seem nicer than they are. It’s likely, since the world is otherwise disgusting. But this place is nice. These people are nice. Kaito wishes he could hide away in this corner of the earth forever, tucked into his chair and sipping warm, fresh coffee for the days to come. But he cannot do that, and his dream is shattered. Hunt the Numbers. Help Haruto. Save him.

Save them all.

He sighs into his drink; the steam curls around his nose. Thomas takes a seat next to him - not across from him, Kaito notes - but he’s too tired and disillusioned to find it at all peculiar.

“You look awful,” Thomas remarks, and Kaito gives an obligatory eye roll in response. “Hey, didn’t mean it like that. You just look like you’re carrying a burden. I know what that’s like.”

“Do you now.”

Thomas sighs, sets his coffee on the table. His arms fly to his head, fingers stapling together as he leans back on his palms. “I don’t do backstories,” he says coolly.

“I wasn’t asking for one.”

An eyebrow twitch. “Fine. Look, my father made me do some terrible things. It’s how I ended up with this scar.” He wiggles the eyebrow above his right eye, calling attention to it. “I’m blind there, did you know? My depth perception is… well. Ha. It’s terrible. But, you know, dear old dad never cared. He just cared that I did my job, played my cards. Hurt the people I -  _ he  _ \- needed to hurt. And you know something? I did it. I wanted to feel like I belonged somewhere within that family, like Mihael, or Chris. They both bring him pride, but me…”

Thomas snorts; his brows crease dangerously. “The only thing I’m good for is the dirty work. Can’t spoil my perfect siblings!”

Kaito nods slowly, apt to listen. Something tells him that all Thomas wants in this moment is someone to hear him -  _ really  _ hear him - and Kaito supposes he doesn’t mind playing the part. Thomas is nice enough - he paid for Kaito’s drink, after all - and doesn’t seem to be all too interested in poking his nose into Kaito’s business, which he appreciates. So the least he can do is act a good samaritan and pay attention, hear Thomas out through his rambling - which is what it is becoming. Rambling.

“I don’t resent them for it, you know. You’d probably think I would. But I still love them. My siblings. It’s just dad - if I can even call him that - that’s the problem.”

Kaito agrees. He knows the feeling well.

“Anyway. Like I said, I don’t do backstories. So eat up what you got, Kaito. It’s the last you’ll hear.”

He snorts.  _ Right _ .

“I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry. What say we go somewhere to eat? My treat for you listening to me.”

Kaito shrugs, shrinks in on himself as he sips the last of his coffee. He doesn’t really want to go, but with nothing else to do and an empty stomach that is constantly reminding him of its emptiness, he figures it cannot hurt to take the offer. Plus… Thomas seems lonely. And while it isn’t like Kaito to involve himself with others, he can’t help but pity the loneliness the pro duelist feels - because Kaito knows what it’s like to be alone, knows how hollow it can get. Knows how desperate one can become for human affection. Even if love isn’t real.

He sighs. “Sure.”

Thomas’ face softens. “Great. I know a few good places. If you want somewhere with less people, there’s a fancy little place not too far from here. Only the best can get in.”

Kaito can’t care less about the prestige of the place, so long as it’s quiet and the food is good. But Thomas seems so sure of himself, so eager to flex his idol status, and Kaito gets the idea that Thomas is  _ very  _ set on this place because of its exclusivity. He wonders if Thomas ever goes there on his own, or if Kaito is just an excuse for him to show up with somebody and look less… sad.

Oh well. “Okay,” Kaito says. His fingers curl around his empty coffee cup, crush it slightly.

“Really? I mean. Good. We’ll leave after I finish my coffee.”

“It’s really not coffee,” Kaito teases, and he catches Thomas smiling.

“It is though.”

“Not.”

“Shut up," Thomas says, feigning seriousness, but suddenly he is laughing, a deep, full-bodied sound, laughing so openly and so purely that it makes Kaito smile. Just a little.

The world is still ugly, filled with ugly people and ugly things. Ugly truths. Ugly lies. But this sound is so very beautiful that, for a moment, Kaito almost believes that the whole world could be bathed in this light, this joy.

But it isn't meant to be. He frowns, and stares into his empty coffee cup, waiting, waiting to be alone again, waiting for the world to become grey again.

Thomas is waiting, too.


End file.
